


Vague Recollections and a General Feeling of Happiness

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Binge Drinking, M/M, Morning After, Mutual Pining, Self-Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9091900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t - I don’t remember anything,” Asahi says, because trying to think back to last night makes the pounding in his head even worse. “I mean, I have like, vague recollections and like, a general feeling of happiness, but…” He shakes his head. --Asahi pieces together what happened last night





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a SASO 2016 fill but I never finished it in time. I still liked bits n pieces of it, so months later I finally finish it. 
> 
> The prompt (and the title of the fic) was a line from Fatboy Slim & Riva Starr (Ft. Beardyman)'s Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat
> 
> Enjoy!

By the time Asahi comes to, Daichi’s looming over him with that kind of angry-concerned look on his face. Asahi’s general fear of Daichi’s anger has waned over these past few years, but right now it still spikes down to his guts like a lightningbolt to dead wood. He knows he’s fucked up somewhere, but he’s not sure where. The nausea burns out from the pit of his stomach to his, well, everything else, and he instantly regrets letting Suga and Tanaka take him out last night.  
  
“How do you feel?” Daichi asks, his lips in a tight line. His face is a little red, and Asahi’s halfway sure that means he’s angry, though the lack of bulging veins in his forehead hints otherwise.  
  
“Hungover. Hungry. I don’t know - bad,” Asahi croaks, and wow, yeah, he sounds terrible.  
  
“Do you remember anything from last night?” Daichi asks, pushing a glass of water and an aspirin tablet into his hands. For some reason, Daichi looks... not nervous, but maybe, apprehensive? He makes himself busy, straightening up the sheets and the discarded pillows on the bed and not really looking Asahi in the eye.  
  
“I don’t - I don’t remember anything,” Asahi says, because trying to think back to last night makes the pounding in his head even worse. “I mean, I have like, vague recollections and like, a general feeling of happiness, but…” He shakes his head.  
  
Daichi exhales, long and slow. Asahi isn’t sure if that’s a look of relief on his face or annoyance, but regardless, Daichi seems to be willing to let things go for now. “Go shower. I’ll get breakfast started and you can come out whenever you’re ready. Suga still has your phone and car keys, so head over there when you get the chance.” With that, Daichi leaves the room in a very conspicuous power-walk.  
  
\--  
  
Asahi nearly screams when he sees his own face in the mirror. He looks like he belongs in a horror movie, with his hair all stringy and wild and his face smeared with - what, paint? Lipstick? God only knew. The eyeliner Tanaka put on him is smudged and bruisy, making the bags under his eyes even more apparent. Glitter glints throughout the mess he begrudgingly calls his hair, and his neck is covered in bruises. _Hickies_ the Daichi in his head supplies, his voice dripping with shame and disgust. It makes his face color up with embarrassment, the red only serving to make the dark stains even more obvious.  
  
Looking at himself like this makes his gut churn with some kind of nameless guilt. Anxiety, the Suga in his head supplies. It’s not real and it has no real cause, but it affects him anyways. It doubles the pain of his headache, makes him nauseous with ugly feelings of worthlessness and paranoia. So instead, he grits his teeth and draws his focus towards what he needs to do, not what he looks like and what he’s done to get to this point. He makes a list - what do I need to do right now? Brush my teeth, wash my face, take a shower. He repeats these things in his head like a mantra, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror until he feels a little bit more human.  
  
The bruises on his neck are - they’re not _horrible_ , he supposes, appraising the darkened skin there. The thing that tugs at his gut isn’t the fact that they’re embarrassing and would be annoying to hide - it’s the fact that he doesn’t know how he _got them_ in the first place. He doesn’t _do_ makeouts with faceless, nameless strangers, he doesn’t _do_ one night stands. He must’ve been seriously fucked up if he let someone at him, and the wave of guilt he feels about it makes the receding nausea come back full force.  
  
He pulls in a long breath. Tanaka knows tricks to hide them; Asahi will make his walk of shame when he picks up his keys from Suga and Noya’s apartment. With luck, Tanaka might have stayed the night. He’d been pretty plastered, after all. Bits and pieces are coming back to him, but not enough to piece last night together.  
  
For now though, he needs to shave and get something in his stomach. He’s still nauseous, but it’s probably mostly in his head. The aspirin’s helped with the headache and he’s almost ready to face the world again.  
  
\--  
  
Daichi gives him an odd look when he comes out in a clean tee shirt and comfortable sweats. He hasn’t bothered to hide his hickeys - something poisonous inside of him tells him he deserves the odd, disapproving looks Daichi might send his way - and it almost feels satisfying to have Daichi’s negative attention on him.  
  
But, really, it isn’t negative. The Suga in his head reminds him time and time again, _He’s worried about you. He cares about you enough to worry about you. He’s not actually angry, he’s not actually angry, he’s not actually angry._ It’s hard to listen to the Suga in his head sometimes, but standing here in the kitchen at 11 in the morning, feeling washed out and scrubbed out, Asahi just wants to feel good again.  
  
There’s a green apple cut into slices on the kitchen table, and Daichi’s cooking meat and vegetables in a skillet. There’s eggs and rice on the table and a small bowl of instant miso, and Asahi is so, so thankful that Daichi is his, if only in this capacity.  
  
Daichi turns the knob on the burner and leaves the skillet on the stove for now. He looks - not really delicate; Daichi doesn’t _do_ delicate, but - vulnerable. Asahi doesn’t like the way Daichi wears his hesitance on his shoulders like a cloak, but he’s not quite sure how to broach the topic. It doesn’t seem like Daichi does, either. Daichi makes like he’s going to say something, before shutting his mouth and trying again. He starts with, “How’s breakfast?”  
  
“It’s good,” Asahi says, closing his eyes and savoring his meal. Daichi fried the rice with garlic. Asahi wishes he could kiss him for it.  
  
“That’s good,” Daichi says, and then he makes a face like he’s lost. There’s a tension in the air, and Asahi isn’t quite sure where it’s coming from, but it makes him nervous. After an awkward moment of silence, Daichi pulls his phone from his pocket and sets it in front of Asahi. “You should give them a call and let them know when you want to get your things.” A pause. “I can drive you to the apartment, if you want.”  
  
Asahi considers it. Daichi looks like he needs space, looks like being around Asahi is agonizing for him and he’s not sure why. Instead, he swallows his gulp of soup down and says, “No. It’s okay - I’ve already given you enough trouble. I can take the bus - it’s only a few stops away.”  
  
For some reason it seems like that was the wrong thing to say, but Daichi won’t say what’s eating him. “Alright. I’m - I’m going to go on a jog. Keep my phone with you, okay?” he asks, and before Asahi can say anything in return, he continues his babbling. “I made stir fry if you’re still hungry. Drink a glass of water before you leave the house. Bye.”  
  
Asahi watches him go. He’s not even dressed for jogging, but before he can say anything about it, Daichi is out the door. With a sigh, he types in Daichi’s passcode and texts Suga.  
  
[Are you awake?}~  
  
He sets the phone down fully expecting it to be hour(s) before he gets a response. He’s pleasantly surprised when he immediately gets several texts in a row.  
  
~{!]  
  
~{!!]  
  
~{!!!]  
  
~{HOW DID IT GO?]  
  
[It’s Asahi}~  
  
~{OH. Wups :’9]  
  
~{Weres Daichi?]  
  
[On a jog. He’s acting a little weird. What did you mean by that?}~  
  
~{Nothin! nothin at all. How u holdin up?]  
  
He doesn’t have the energy to play Suga’s games and lets the issue go. It bugs him, though, how Suga avoids the question. What is that supposed to mean, ‘How did it go?’ As far as Asahi knew, Daichi wasn’t even doing anything last night. Or was he? Maybe Suga and Tanaka taking him out was supposed to be a distraction? But for what?  
  
Asahi dashes the thoughts out of his head, knowing that if he went down that road he probably wouldn’t come back anytime soon. Instead, he forces his fingers to type out something suitably neutral.  
  
[I feel better. Daichi made breakfast}~  
  
~{Oh ho ;D]  
  
[What?}~  
  
~{What?]  
  
[What’s that face?}~  
  
~{Nooooothin u3u~]  
  
[What happened last night?}~  
  
~{What DIDNT happen last night? Wut you dont remember?]  
  
[I wouldn’t ask you if I did.}~  
  
~{...oh.]  
  
[??}~  
  
[Also I need to come get my phone and keys from you. Is Tanaka there?}~  
  
~{Yeeeeeeeeeess? Why do you ask??]  
  
[I need his help. You’ll see when I see you.}~  
  
~{!!!!!! Oh my god]  
  
[What?}~  
  
~{What?]  
  
[What?}~  
  
~{Nothin! I’ll see you soon, big guy ;D]  
  
\--  
  
Asahi hadn’t bothered to put on anything more than a hoodie over his sweats, having all but forgotten about the hickies on his neck over the course of breakfast. He’d come to regret that decision when Nishinoya spots him from his perch on the couch and makes a loud wolf whistle. This garners the attention of Tanaka, who joins in on the playful jeering, though in a significantly more lackluster fashion than his aggressively not hungover boyfriend.  
  
The attention makes Asahi shrink back beside Suga, hunching his shoulders up as if it would hide the dark bruises. Suga notices his embarrassment and thankfully decides to do damage control.  
  
“Alright, alright guys, settle down. He’s only here to grab his keys and phone,” Suga chides them, looking like he hadn’t even touched a wine cooler last night, let alone finish off the good portion of a fishbowl with Tanaka.  
  
“Oh man, I wish I’d been there last night,” Nishinoya crows, reaching for a tissue to wipe his running nose. “I can’t believe I missed out on that. Was he hot? He had to have been hot - I mean I gotta be honest, you act like the fuckin’ Virgin Mary everytime we go out clubbing, and when Daichi said he was checking up on you guys I thought - “  
  
Nishinoya suddenly cuts himself off, eyes wide in confusion. Asahi turns to catch the tail end of Suga making a desperate cease-and-desist motion with his hands.  
  
“Daichi was there?” Asahi asks, feeling the floor give way underneath him. If Daichi was there, then he must’ve been - he must’ve seen - he must’ve at least _known_ about the mysterious recipient of Asahi’s drunken affections. No wonder he was acting weird this morning. Sure, Daichi was cool with Tanaka and Nishinoya being together, but it’s different when your _roommate_ is gay and drunk and _likes you_ and -  
  
Suga cuts off his train of thought by gently squeezing his shoulder. “You… really don’t remember anything about last night?” he asks, cautious.  
  
“Everything’s kind of blurry after Tanaka found me at the bar,” he says, and in the background, he hears Nishinoya make a soft _ohhhhh_ of realization. Suga bites his lower lip, his eyebrows scrunching up on his forehead. He makes Significant eye contact with Tanaka, who’s got this funny sort of half-smile on his face, like he’s got a secret that he’s not supposed to tell but he really, really wants to.  
  
“I think you should probably ask Daichi what happened,” Suga eventually says, with an air of finality that says _you will talk to Daichi, so help me god_.  
  
“He’s avoiding me,” Asahi says plainly. He knows he’s looking for excuses to avoid the confrontation altogether, and Suga knows him well enough to pick up on it. It doesn’t stop him from trying, anyways. “I’m pretty sure it has something to do with, y’know,” he motions at his bruised up neck.  
  
Immediately, Suga hisses in a breath, and the way his eyes are squeezed shut tells Asahi that he’s counting down from ten. “He’s an idiot. Your roommate’s an idiot,” Suga mutters under his breath, and Tanaka is trying his best not to laugh.  
  
“So uh. Speaking of these…” Asahi says, eyes drifting to Tanaka. “Do you think you can do anything about them? They’re… kinda noticeable.” Nishinoya whistles his approval, loud and lascivious. He grins even when Asahi shoots him a glare.  
  
“You sure you don’t wanna keep them out? They’re like nice little trophies. Prizes for being really hot,” Tanaka says, and he’s got a shit eating grin that makes even Asahi want to sock him in the arm.  
  
“I’d rather not,” he says drily. “How do I hide them so when I go to work tomorrow people aren’t going to judge me?”  
  
Tanaka smiles, rolling his eyes fondly. In one fluid motion, he gets up from his seat beside Suga’s coffee table and motions for Asahi to follow him to the bathroom. “Alright, alright come on. Lemme show you a trick you can do with lipstick, hairspray, and a little foundation.”  
  
\--  
  
After Tanaka finishes covering up Asahi’s hickies, Suga asks him for a ride to work. Asahi is of a mind to protest, but Suga has his car keys looped around his index finger and a look in his eyes that means business. Nishinoya and Tanaka wish him luck on his way out, and for some reason, Asahi feels like he’s walking into the metaphorical lair of the dragon.  
  
They sit in uncomfortable silence as Suga pulls out of his apartment’s parking lot and onto the main street. Asahi knows Suga is going to bring something up, but his flair for dramatics is keeping him from saying anything just yet. Really, all it does is make Asahi nervous.  
  
“So. Last night,” Asahi says, because frankly, the silence was unnerving.  
  
“Last night,” Suga agrees, turning on his blinker.  
  
Asahi watches the street as they turn, trying not to sound too panicky when he asks, “Was Daichi really there?”  
  
Suga sighs a longsuffering sigh and says, “Yes.” After a moment, he says, “Sorry about last night. We got you really, really drunk. You know how Tanaka gets when he’s hammered.”  
  
Yes, Asahi definitely knows how Tanaka gets when he’s drunk. When Tanaka is drunk, _everybody_ is drunk. Usually, between the four of them (three of them, since Nishinoya wasn’t there), one of them is good for DD, but on the rare occasions where Tanaka gets everyone roaring shitfaced drunk, Daichi could be called upon to do the deed. Apparently, last night was one of those nights.  
  
“We got him to dance a little, but he was tired after his shift,” Suga explains. “After probably 20 minutes, he copped out and decided to hang out with you at the bar for a while. Tanaka and I, we don’t really know what happened, but you guys disappeared for a bit. An hour or two later, he finds us at the bar to tell us he’s taking you home early, and all I’m going to say is that he was wearing the lipstick Tanaka gave you to hold onto and that it was smudged to all hell.”  
  
Suga gives him a Significant look, but for the life of him, Asahi can’t parse it. He’s a little afraid to ask - mostly because he knows Suga’s going to tell him to ask Daichi about it. Somehow, Asahi can’t put together the significance of the lipstick - the cogs are all there, but they don’t quite match up just yet.  
  
Suga sighs as he turns into the parking lot of the bookstore near Asahi and Daichi’s apartment and parks the car. There’s a helpless look on his face when he says, “I can’t tell you what happened while you two were gone - that’s something you’re going to have to ask him - but based on the texts he sent us, it was pretty wild.” As an afterthought, Suga smiles in his most reassuring Suga™ kind of way and says, “Good wild, I promise. Probably. Fun wild, at least. Either way, you really, really need to ask him what happened.”  
  
“I would, if he’d stop avoiding me about it,” Asahi gripes, and in an instant, Suga’s cold hands are on both sides of his face, directing Asahi to look at him.  
  
“I’m serious. No excuses, Asahi. When you see him, talk to him about it. It’ll be good for you. Both of you,” he says, quiet and earnest and intense.  
  
Slowly, Asahi nods in resignation. “I promise I’ll talk to him,” he says.  
  
Suga instantly brightens up, a pleased smile stretching across his face as he gently pats Asahi’s cheeks. “Good. I’ve got to clock in, but when you finish your heart to heart with Daichi, I expect to see a text from you telling me how it went, alright?” he asks, and as much as Asahi wants to, he can’t say no. He knows Suga does this because it’s just one of the ways that Suga takes care of him, but right now, he curses their friendship. Damn Suga and his genuinely-helpful-but-also-absolutely-torturous coping mechanisms for real life.  
  
After Suga disappears into the bookstore, Asahi takes a few seconds to breath deep and re-settle himself before pushing open the door and moving over to the driver’s seat. He’ll talk to Daichi about last night even if it kills him.  
  
\--  
  
As luck would have it, Daichi’s loitering in the kitchen when Asahi returns home. He startles in a way that would be absolutely hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that Asahi suddenly feels tense and awkward and self-conscious, knowing the conversation he needs to initiate. They stare each other down long enough that it becomes unbearably unnerving.  
  
“Ah - “ Asahi says, just as Daichi says, “Um,” and then, as if practiced, they both fall silent. Daichi’s smiling awkwardly around the stale cookie in his mouth, and Asahi can’t help but reciprocate the gesture, his sharp exhale like the beginnings of a laugh.  
  
“Sorry, you should go first,” Asahi says, before realizing that Daichi was in the middle of eating and therefore had to chew and swallow. Daichi’s done before the anxious feeling has had much of a chance to build, but Asahi still feels a little foolish.  
  
There’s an awkward silence as Daichi takes a seat at the kitchen table, silently willing Asahi to settle in as well. “So, um. About last night,” Daichi coughs out, not really meeting Asahi’s eyes.  
  
“What… happened, exactly?” Asahi says, cautious.  
  
Daichi bites his lip as he decides on what to say. Eventually, he sighs and says, “I got Suga’s text during the evening shift and got there probably around midnight. Maybe a little bit after. You guys were already pretty shitfaced cuz Noya wasn’t around to distract his idiot boyfriend. I hovered around a bit to make sure Suga wasn’t getting too weird on the dancefloor and then went to find you because, uh. Drunk sweaty people.”  
  
Asahi makes a sound of agreement and Daichi laughs something small and awkward. “Anyways, you had a couple of empty drinks around you, so I took the one in your hand and killed it for you. At first you looked really upset, but then you realized it was me. You were really, really drunk.”  
  
“I know,” Asahi groans, covering his face. “What else?”  
  
“So I guess Tanaka dolled you guys up a little bit and left you with the goods, because next thing I know, you’ve got me on the barstool next to you and a tube of lipstick out. You know, you’ve really steady hands for a drunk guy,” Daichi grins. The pieces are starting to click into place but there’s still pieces that’re missing, things that doesn’t quite fit…  
  
“So uh. There was this guy sitting on the other side of you,” Daichi says, slow and careful. Every word that comes out of his mouth is deliberately neutral, and Asahi knows he’s trying his best to keep him from freaking out. “He was… really drunk as well. I think he thought you’d been trying to start shit with him, so when he saw us with the lipstick, he said some really rude things. After that, you, uh…”  
  
He _remembers_. Oh, god, he remembers. Daichi looks embarrassed and uncomfortable and apologetic, and he sighs a vague and carefully noncommittal, “Yeah.”  
  
“ _You were_ \- “  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“ _And I_ \- “  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“ _We got kicked out._ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Asahi groans, dragging his hands down his face. Daichi has a sheepish little half smile when he says, “If it helps, you kicked his ass pretty hard.”  
  
“It does not help. Oh my god I’m going to have to - I need to write an apology letter holy shit,” Asahi says, scrabbling for a pen and paper. It makes Daichi laugh, soft with disbelief. When Asahi find a piece of rainbow hello kitty stationery - probably left behind by Kiyoko, probably a gift from Yachi - and begins scribbling on it, Daichi’s laughter turns into a roar. It makes Asahi feel silly and stupid, but in a good way, and he can’t help but smile even as he says, “God, what do I even say? Sorry for accidentally starting a fight in your club because I was drunk and didn’t bring my glasses?”  
  
“Sorry the other guy had a Napoleon complex and thought he was hot shit?” Daichi offers, trying, and failing, to hide his amusement  
  
“Sorry I was born with a face like a gangster’s?” Asahi shoots back, grinning.  
  
That makes Daichi burst into a fit of laughter, before shooting back, “Sorry my roommate looks amazing in berry red lipstick?”  
  
“ _God_ , you look amazing in berry red lipstick,” Asahi confirms, and immediately, he regrets it. He’s said too much, and Daichi _knows_ and any minute now Daichi’s going to, to, to kick him out, to get angry or disgusted or -  
  
Asahi’s too distracted by the sirens wailing in his head that he barely registers the way Daichi reaches out with a thumb to brush against his knuckles. The contact makes Asahi flinch, makes everything startle into silence long enough for Daichi to get a word in.  
  
“You remember what happened after you punched his lights out?” Daichi asks, and Asahi is panicking too hard to register the fondness in his voice.  
  
“No, I don’t. What did I do?” Asahi asks, trying desperately to keep his voice level. He can’t look Daichi in the eye. His face feels hot, and he is acutely aware of the way the makeup sits over his bruised neck. He wants to hide, but he also wants to know what happened last night, and he promised Suga he’d sit and stay and talk.  
  
“You knocked him out in the alley behind the club,” Daichi explains, slow and careful. “You thought you killed him. Nothing I said made you see reason. So then I told you I’d help you hide the body.”  
  
“Oh, god,” Asahi groans, and he knows Daichi’s trying to pull him out, trying to distract him from his anxiety, and he can’t help but feel bitter that it’s working so well.  
  
“You know that look you used to get, back when we all played volleyball? When you stopped being a wimp for a second and got your shit together enough to spike the ball so hard you could hear the floors creak? You had that, that _determined_ kind of look on your face when we both grabbed the guy by his armpits and dragged him to - fuck, we dragged him all the way to the park, I think,” Daichi says, and when Asahi looks up he can see the laughter in his eyes. “I think we left him in the bushes.”  
  
Asahi fights down the amused smile that creeps on his face, but it’s a losing battle.  
  
“Afterward, you said, and I quote, ‘Daichi, you’re my hero. How can I ever repay you?’ Only, you know, drunk and slurry because you were absolutely hammered.”  
  
“I did not say that,” Asahi groans, covering his face. It’s embarrassing - he’s embarrassed, but it’s not bad. Between what he was feeling before and the knee-jerk embarrassment he gets at being told about his drunk behavior, the latter is definitely preferable.  
  
“You did,” Daichi says grinning, “You said it and then you spent like five minutes trying to figure out what you had that you could give me.”  
  
“Please tell me I don’t owe you like. My laptop or something.”  
  
“Of course not. We live together. I use your stuff anyways,” Daichi laughs. “So while you were listing everything out, we got back to the car and you were getting really upset because I kept saying no. At that point I don’t even think you remembered why you were trying to give me something.” Daichi pauses, long enough for Asahi to peek from behind his fingers.  
  
Daichi isn’t looking at him anymore, his hand self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a faint flush on his face, and he’s biting his lip as he considers what he needs to say next.  
  
“So, I uh,” he exhales loudly, and Asahi can’t help but watch him. “I was just. Y’know, joking around when I said it but you. Sort of took it seriously. One thing led to another and uh.” He gestures at Asahi’s neck.  
  
It takes Asahi a second to realize what Daichi meant, but when it does, it hits him like a brick. “ _YOU_ gave me the hickies?” Asahi asks, hope, denial, and shock all fighting for dominance inside him.  
  
“I… I let the mood get me carried away, okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront with you about it this morning, and I’m sorry I took advantage of how drunk you were. I just. Didn’t really know how to tell you without fucking everything up,” Daichi says, and Asahi couldn’t stop staring. Daichi looks embarrassed and uncomfortable and above all, _guilty_. “But, I mean. There it is. I had no intention of actually, y’know, doing anything. I just wanted to see what it’d be like. To, uh. Kiss you.”  
  
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Let’s take this from the top. I beat a guy up, we hid the body, and I wanted to repay you for helping me,” Asahi says, and Daichi meekly nods his head, yes.  
  
“So eventually, as a joke, you ask for a kiss,” Asahi says, and he doesn’t know if he should be upset or not. Daichi nods his head, but he doesn’t look at Asahi. The red in his face is spreading to his ears and down his neck. “We both get carried away and if I’m assuming correctly, we made out in your car.”  
  
“Against my car, actually, but yes,” Daichi says, and every word out of him sounds like pulling teeth. “I stopped it before things got really bad, I promise. No one’s hands got under anyone’s clothes, and I think you grabbed my butt once, but that was it.”  
  
There’s an uncomfortably long pause, before Asahi asks, “Are you attracted to me?”  
  
Daichi doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “Yes.”  
  
“Romantically? Or just physically? Am I here to sate your curiosity?” Asahi asks, and the last question comes out biting and upset.  
  
“ _God, no_. I, I really, genuinely like you. In both ways,” Daichi says. “But if that’s not okay, I mean. I’m not going to move out because I can’t afford another apartment in this city, but I won’t do anything. You know I won’t. I’m not like that. It can be just like before, I promise. We can forget about this if you want to.”  
  
Asahi leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he considers Daichi's words. “Okay,” he says quietly.  
  
“Okay? As in, okay you can stay and I can forget that you’re attracted to me, or okay, I’m cool with this relationship?” Daichi asks, and it’s so strange to see him so hesitant, so meek.  
  
Asahi shakes his head and says, “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m really okay with what happened last night. We both did some things we shouldn’t have. But. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to try this out.”  
  
Daichi sighs a long, relieved sigh. “I can work with that. This can work,” he says with a smile. After a pause, he asks, “So, now that we’re both sober… do you think we could try that whole how-can-I-ever-repay you thing again?”  
  
Asahi snorts. “Don’t try your luck Prince Charming. Let’s start out with a date and see where that takes us, okay?”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Daichi says, fond. “I can work with that.”


End file.
